Letting Go
by xoxorosiexoxo
Summary: A letter from Massie Block. One-shot. R


**I was a little bored and felt like writing something Clique related, so I kind of just came up with this off the top of my head. This is my first one-shot, so we'll see how it goes. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I hope you like it!**

I'm not what you think I am.

No, I'm not going to tell you that I'm a vampire or any kind of mythical creature from one of those shitty books. I'm not going to say that I'm a teen pop star in disguise or some kind of mass murderer. What I am going to tell you, however, is even more horrifying than any of that.

It only takes one word to explain.

Loser.

That's what I am. A complete and utter loser. No one would ever guess it, of course. Everyone thinks that I'm a perfect Alpha, easily ruling my pack of minions along with the entire school and maybe all of Westchester itself. My worshippers think that I'm Queen Massie Block, the most confident, beautiful, _perfect _person on Earth. To my haters, I'm the bitchiest person they know, and my thoughts consist of nothing but Teen Vogue, cute boys, and world domination. My parents think I'm a princess. Other parents wish their kids were just like me: smart, beautiful, classy, lovable, everything a girl could wish to be.

I'm Massie Block, and I can make or break you.

I'm the girl who sends other girls home to their mothers. I'm the girl that can make the toughest boy cry. I can make a a girl do anything I want just by offering my friendship. I can have a boy wrapped around my finger faster than I can cut them off.

I'm flawless. My skin is like milk, clean and smooth. My face is perfect, from my black lined eyes to my glossip girl covered lips. My body is perfect, the envy of girls years older than me and the picture in boys heads. I don't have an ounce of fat on my body. My muscles are toned but I don't look like I'm on steroids. I could be on the cover of Teen Vogue.

My fashion sense is desired by all. I know every fashion tip. I know the oncoming trends before runway models. Better than that, I _set _the trends. I never wear the same thing twice-besides my gorgeous charm bracelet.

There's another thing. Money. I'm loaded, and everyone knows it. I could buy pretty much anything in the world without making a dent in my daddy's bank account. My credit cards have no limit, I just shop until I drop.

My world is perfect. I have perfect, beautiful, loyal friends. I have boys falling all over me. I'm bound to be famous, living in the lap of luxury for all my life. Nothing is out of place, not even a single strand of hair.

_This is what everyone thinks of me. _

But this isn't what I see. When I look in the mirror, I see none of that. I don't see a flawless girl deserving to be on the cover of a magazine. Do you want to know what I see?

Ugly. Disgusting. Desperate. Lonely. Loser loser loser.

There you have it. I'm not nearly as confident as everyone thinks. I may hold myself like a runway model, but inside, I feel like a fat, ugly hag who should be hiding behind baggy sweats, covering my face. I don't feel nearly as beautiful as everyone thinks I look. I don't feel perfect. I feel far from it.

I feel like a doll. Plastic. Fake. I cover my face in pounds of makeup in an attempt to look what society considers beautiful. I do my hair for hours until its 'perfect'. I wear what the world expects me to wear, what I'm expected to look like. I'm a puppet, getting tugged by the strings, forced to do things I don't want to do, molded into whatever the world wants me to be. Just like a lump of clay.

Honestly, I'm like every other girl. I have my flaws. I get self-conscious. My heart skips a beat when a certain boy walks in the room. I get nervous when people are watching me. I regret decisions and nitpick over the stupidest things. I doubt loyalties in my friends.

My friends. I don't know why I even call them that. They aren't friends. They're minions. I created them in order to feel stronger, to seem stronger. I made them into my _own _little puppets so I could gain popularity and keep it. You know, safety in numbers. They aren't true friends, though. They wouldn't miss me if I was gone. Sure, they'd cry over it for a few days and be lost for a little while, but they don't love me. They won't be heartbroken. They'll soak up all of the sympathy and attention more than they think about me.

Now you know. I have insecurities. I feel ugly and flawed all the time. I wear a mask. Pretty-pretty smiles and tape recorded laughter. I'm nothing.

I became Massie Block-no, not as in just my name, as in _me. _Ruler of the school-for two reasons. Reason numero uno: my mother promised she would never love me unless I was popular and perfect. Like I said, I'm a human being, and I desire love. I need to be loved. Everyone does. My second reason: It made me feel better. At first at least. In the beginning, it made me feel safe. It made me feel important and special and envied. And I guess I was in some ways, but only to others, never to myself.

I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry to everyone I've ever put down. I only did it to make myself feel better. I only did it to feel the power. I'm sorry to everyone who has envied me or cried over me. I'm sorry to the people who hate me-believe me, I understand why you do. I'm sorry to my friends, I've controlled you too long. Live your lives. Find friends you actually love. This is my official apology to everyone who has ever come in contact with me at all. I'm sorry, honestly. I'll say it a million times if I have to.

I hope one day someone will find this letter and read about me. I hope they tell it to the world. I hope I can be forgiven, even if just by one person.

I'm ending my life tonight. It's all too much for me to handle now. All my regrets are swarming in, crowding me and suffocating me. I can't do it anymore.

I'm glad I won't have to screw up any more lives anymore. Including my own.

Remember that silly little 'In and Out' thing I used to do? Well here's my last one.

**In: Apologies**

**Out: ****Massie Block**

**Please review with comments or constructive criticism. Anything is appreciated. **

**Hugs and Kisses!**

**~Rosie**


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